


Through the Darkness

by tcarroll_12



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller Are Best Friends, Alec Hardy Needs A Hug, Alec Hardy and His Broken Heart, Asexual Alec Hardy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcarroll_12/pseuds/tcarroll_12
Summary: After witnessing one of Hardy's nightmares firsthand, Ellie can stand his suffering no longer.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Comments: 9
Kudos: 144





	Through the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Teen only for mild swearing.

Despite her dad's protests, Daisy insisted on taking the foldout couch in the living space and not the suite, claiming she “wanted to enjoy the view as she fell asleep” and would feel “claustrophobic” in the bedroom (despite it being larger than her room at home).

“Besides, you’re old,” Daisy quipped. “You can’t sleep on the couch without consequences like I can.”

“Oi!” 

Daisy giggled and they converted the sofa together while Ellie looked on, smiling. It was rare to see the grumpy Scot in such a good mood, but that was his daughter for you. 

“Lights out in an hour, young lass,” Hardy commanded, tapping her nose with one long finger. “Miller has to be at the station by ten, we aren’t going to be late, understood?”

“Yeah, got it,” she sighed dramatically, albeit with a smile. Ellie headed to the bathroom to prepare for sleep, giving in to a cavernous yawn. Father and daughter exchanged snark until she was done, then it was Alec’s turn. He hugged Daisy tight and long, resting his head on hers, her head buried in his chest, til he stood up and reluctantly relinquished his grasp. 

“You know where I’ll be if you need anythin',” Hardy said quietly. “Sleep tight, darlin’.” 

“You too, Dad,” she whispered. They shared one last, long look, then Daisy buried herself in the bedclothes and pulled out her phone. Alec couldn’t help a grin as he turned away and headed for the bedroom, knowing then his time was up for sure. _What is it with kids and phones nowadays?_ he mused.

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Ellie said, “I ask myself that question all the time.” She moved over to give him as much room as she could; Alec quirked his eyebrow in classic Hardy fashion and muttered, “I’m not sick, I don’t need that much space.” He pulled his blanket out of his travel case and lay down atop the quilt. 

“Oh for God's sake, Hardy, are you seriously going to sleep on top of the covers?” 

“Don’t start, Miller,” he grumbled, pulling the blanket over his lanky body. He turned his light out and sighed through his nose. Ellie stared at him disapprovingly, but said nothing more; she slipped underneath the covers and turned off her lamp as well. “Night, sir.” _Oops._

Hardy snorted. “Night, Miller.”

_Thrashing_

_Water everywhere_

_Lungs_

_Can’t breathe_

_Hands clawing at him_

_Can’t breathe—_

_“Alec!”_

_blackness_

“Alec!!” 

Alec Hardy awoke suddenly with a deep gasp that burned his lungs with its depth, coughing and spluttering—

No, his throat was dry— 

Dizziness washed over the inspector; he realized his heartbeat was fluttering. 

Pills. 

A face floated into his view, full of worry. 

He tried to sit up, but his head was still swimming; unknown hands

_clawing_

gently guided him back onto a soft surface. “Pills,” he managed to gasp. “Bathroom…counter.” 

The face disappeared. His heart lurched and he coughed. Slowly things started coming back to him, morphing from the blackness of the familiar nightmare back into reality. 

He hissed in a breath. 

_Daisy._

He prayed he hadn’t woken her. 

The face reappeared, this time with a single white pill and a glass of water. 

After his frantic heartbeat returned to normal, Hardy flopped back down on the pillow, drenched in cold sweat. “Check on Daisy,” he implored Miller, clapping a limp hand over his eyes. 

Thankfully, she left immediately, without argument, and Hardy choked out a sob to an empty room. 

Ellie wasn’t gone for long. When she returned, Hardy’s face was buried in his hands, still breathing in harsh, ragged gasps. His whole body was shaking like a leaf in a gale. She slipped back under the sheets and gently grasped one of Hardy’s bony wrists; the touch made him stiffen immediately, like an anemone awash in a rocky sea of torture and tumult. 

Her heart broke for him. She knew he had trouble sleeping, but to actually witness the nightmare and its aftermath was something else entirely. As a mother, sure, she had comforted both of her children during the night at some point or another, but to see it happen to her boss—a typically gruff, laconic creature who tried so hard to project cold aloofness in ironclad confidence and strength—was different; it rattled her in a way she never thought possible, even after experiencing Joe's trial and everything that came with it. Here was one of the most hardworking, selfless men she’d ever met, in actuality the textbook definition of a tortured soul, trembling and terrified and alone—

 _No_ , she suddenly decided. He’d been there for her like no one else had during Joe’s trial, had never hesitated to take care of her boys whenever they needed anything, yet not allowing himself the same comfort—he would not be alone in this. She was done watching him suffer silently. 

She ran her thumb along the spars of his knuckles, and he seemed to turn inwards on himself, shuddering. But Ellie was nothing if not determined; she scooted closer to Hardy, reached across his convulsing frame, and started stroking the side of his head, ever so gently. 

For reasons unknown to them both, that move was the last straw. Hardy crumbled like sand beneath that touch, and finally— _bloody hell, he was so sick of hurting, of the nightmares, of_ everything—turned toward her; without hesitation, she pulled him into his arms, tucked his head beneath hers, and whispered softly to him, stroking his head all the while. “Just let it go, Alec. You’re safe here… you don’t have to hide anything, just let it out…” The pain and suffering in his sobbing brought tears to her own eyes, but she remained strong for him, just kept stroking his head like Tom or Fred. 

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the grief slowly began to subside; Alec removed his soaked hands from his face and pulled his shaking arms around Ellie, clinging on for dear life to this woman who hadn’t run away from his horrendous emotions, hadn’t stabbed him in the back when he was here, at his absolute weakest point; this woman who didn’t judge him or berate him for showing fragility but actually _embraced it_ , who endured—and reciprocated—physical contact with him and soothed him like not even a memory of his own saintly mother had done. To his amazement she never became impatient, though he had probably wept for a good half an hour before his heartbreak and torment showed signs of abating. In the back of his mind, the one dry corner not washed away by the torrent of emotion, he couldn’t believe it, but as the first cracks in his armor gave way to crumbling, he found he was grateful all the same.

Bloody Ellie Miller, of all bloody people. 

Miller giggled. “Bet neither one of us thought this would ever happen, eh?”

“Ah hell, did I say that out loud?” Hardy grimaced. 

“’S true though,” she said, pulling away just enough to look Alec in the eye. She brushed the hair back from his still-glistening eyes, tucked it behind an ear. Those eyes now stared at her with a million different expressions: defenselessness, desperation, exhaustion. Though he looked worn down like she’d never seen before, he also looked better in a way she couldn’t quite put a finger on. 

“How are you still here, Miller?” he lamented, still tormented by guilt. "Anyone with a shred of sense would be far away as possible after that.” _As it should be,_ he added silently. 

Her expression became serious in the face of his despondency. She recognized the look of shame, as if by venting his feelings he’d somehow committed a great atrocity. “I’m here because my best friend and work partner is bloody suffering and has been for years and needs someone,” she said quietly but firmly, “because he’s human and brokenhearted, and because he can’t control what other people do or how they feel.” She entwined her other hand with his. “Because he's worthy of the same love and help he gives other people in his life. Because he’s worth more than he thinks he is. Because he thinks no one cares about him, that no one should care, that he’s damaged goods, and no one’s ever bloody told him otherwise.” Each clause hit Alec right in the plexus of his soul. He was flat stunned, and too drained to fight her on it. She was right about all of it, annoyingly so. 

“Because he’s Shitface and Britain’s worst cop and the most annoying knob I’ve ever worked with,” she barreled on, causing Hardy to smile in spite of himself, “but he’s _my_ bloody Shitface and I don’t _care_ what he thinks, I refuse to let him be alone anymore because _no one_ bloody should be, _least_ of all him, and because _I bloody well love him!”_

That shut both of them up. Hardy grimaced in pain and tried to pull his fingers out of Miller’s grasp, which had grown tighter as her tirade progressed, to the point where her nails were gripping into his skin. As she felt him pull away, she realized how tight her hand was, and immediately released his with a little gasp. “Sorry!” she whispered as he withdrew his hand and flexed the digits. 

He stared at it til he was satisfied that neither skin nor bone had been broken, then looked back at Miller. They both lay silent for awhile, shocked into speechlessness by Miller’s surprise confession.

Finally, again to both their surprise, Hardy rewound his fingers into hers, and asked in a small, quivering voice, “Did you mean that, Miller?” 

Ellie stared at him, lost for words for a few more moments, then nodded. “Platonically, you knob, so don’t go getting any soppy ideas. I think sex would be rather irresponsible at this point in our lives anyway.” 

Hardy grimaced. “Agreed. Plus, after everything with Tess… I’ve sort of lost interest in it anyway.”

“Oh! Plus we still work together,” she added. “Literally can’t have that, unless one of us was going to retire—”

“Oof, no, good point. No retiring, we’re the best team Wessex Police has ever had.” Still holding her hand, Hardy rolled onto his back, and swiped a hand over his face. “ _God_ , I’m exhausted. What time is it?” 

Ellie rolled away and checked her phone on her nightstand. “Bloody hell, it’s almost four,” she murmured. 

Alec groaned. “I’m going to be a dead man walking tomorrow, Miller!” 

“Better get to sleep then,” she said simply, curling up next to him and draping an arm on his torso. After a moment’s hesitation, as if it were a wild animal, Hardy slowly interlaced his fingers with hers on his chest. This… this was alright. He could handle this.

He was just about to drift off when she murmured, “Don’t think you’re escaping anytime soon, Alec Hardy. We have a _lot_ of things to talk about.” 

Hardy groaned. “We’ll see about that. Go to sleep, Miller.”

She untied her hand from his and playfully thumped it on his stomach, eliciting a noise of protest from the inspector. “You know me better than that.”

He growled a warning, but it was an empty threat. Ellie smiled, rejoined hands, and they both soon fell fast asleep.

For the first time in a long while, Alec Hardy did not have any nightmares.


End file.
